Perfect Synchronisation
by Chewy Nemesis
Summary: AU The retold story of Desmond Miles and his journey through Assassins and Templars. Will divert from canon pretty early on. Please leave a review.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed, nor am I a part of Ubisoft that does.

I looked outside the bar and saw a couple of men with Abstergo logos approaching this place. Heh, I guess they finally found me, huh? It's sad, but I don't actually know the name of this place, my last workplace. Maybe if I live long enough to wake up again I can ask the bastards what it's called? It's only right to keep track of the places where you lost everything. Again.

You see, the first was The Farm, or 'home' as we were never allowed to call it. We had to move the whole place around anyway, so it's not like I had a place to call my own, or even a place where I was loved. Since birth I've been going from one place to the next, looking for people that wanted me to be what they wanted. My parents... well, you already know what they did, and no matter where we moved to, it was always about 'the next generation', and 'take up our fight'. Yeah right.

The goons I saw before are entering the bar now, the dicks don't even look like they're going to by a drink. Bastards. It's not like I could stop them, anyway. My body has wasted away from alcohol, and that's all I have even if I did remember how to fight.

I pour myself a drink, since for all I know it may well be my last one, heh, and here I actually thought I could be a bartender for the rest of my life. I always prided myself on my drinks, they were the first completely useless skill that I ever learned, and that always meant sticking it to those upstairs. I was raised, instead, to be invisible, to be silent, and to be deadly, which was all well and good, right up until you realise that you don't even know what the hell you're doing, let alone why you're doing it. What right did I have to look at a man and decide to end his life? What right does the world I live in have to clap me on the back and tell me that I did the right thing?

See, I didn't leave because I was lousy at being what they wanted from me. No, I was actually pretty good at what they taught me, but I suppose that they've had centuries to work the kinks out their teaching methods. It was always 'give everything' and 'do you want to see them win? You'll have to do better than that'. Heh, my Dad was a dick, I barely refuse to acknowledge him as my parent. Mentor, maybe, on a good day, but never parent. I found out what I call him on a bad day after I started drinking.

I was always better at the stealth side of things, of noticing what people take for granted and picking up details that are inconsistent. Apparently I was part of some long line of Masters that were the best of their times at that, so I never got so much as a praise. I decided that it didn't matter, in the end, that I only wanted to do what was right for me, and not some war that I had no stake in. I was only average anyway, and the only people who thought any differently were my parents, and I was only pushed harder because I couldn't live up to their expectations. I didn't need to be one of those blades that seem to be everywhere, I don't want to be cannon fodder.

The thugs are at my bar now, so I save them from their idiotic death threats by waving them off, downing one last drink, and walking past them outside.

I had vague ideas of running for it, but knew if they found me here, then there wasn't any place I could go, except for those people I ran away from in the first place. Ah, who am I kidding? I'm not even fit anymore, I guess I really should've spent more time working out than riding my bike.

It's a moot point now. The goons are coming forward with syringes, and on principal I slugged one of them in the face before the other put me in a headlock and jabbed me in the neck.

The world is fuzzy, and quickly fading as I slump over.

My name is Desmond Miles, and this is my story.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or its affiliates.

Chapter 1

God, my head is pounding as I wake up, but I have no idea where I am. I look around, and feel my body turn around in a garden that looks like something directly out of the old history textbooks they had back at The Farm. That was about as far as I got before the world flickered and died as a wash of smoky blue stood in its place, with code littering the atmosphere.

Groaning, I turned my attention to the most important thing, so I sat down to nurse my headache and maybe even relieve some of the pain that was threatening to split my skull. The only problem was a sword that hung at my hip that made sitting down a goddamn pain.

It took a while for my head to register what had just happened, but when I finally figured out what was wrong I had just enough time to snap my eyes fully open and start to take a look at my body. I catch a glimpse of white cloth before the world exploded. Again.

"Ms Stillman, that was completely unnecessary. Once his vitals calmed down we would have been able to find a stable memory without removing him from the animus. Now we have to explain everything to him." By the time this guy had finished talking I had managed to blink the light out of my eyes and sit up. There were at least two people in the room, I couldn't see either of them yet, as I had a splitting headache. Shaking my head to clear it as much as I could, I looked around the room trying to make it look like I was still clearing my head. Intel's still the first thing you need.

There are two people here. _Only_ two people. Behind me was some old guy in a lab coat that was talking before. He had a gray beard, but was pretty bald up top. The other was some blond lady who was wearing an office/secretary type outfit that's pretty easy on the eyes. She's standing at a computer that's a part of whatever-the-hell I was just in. God, I need a drink.

"Warren, you know how this works, and if you want him to stay alive long enough to get what you want, then listen to me. I've been the one in charge of the health of the Subjects and their Animus sessions. I still don't even know why you're here, this isn't the first time we've caught an 'important' assassin." The blond was glaring at the old man... Warren... now, which was strange, because it sounded like he was the one in charge from his tone of voice earlier. Damn, I need to get rid of this headache, sitting here with my head in my hands is helping a lot less than it should.

"Now now, Ms Stillman, no need to get antsy. If this Subject has half the memories his DNA suggests, then this will be well worth the effort, no matter how we go about it. But enough of that, Mr Miles is awake, and it would only be proper for us to answer some of his questions since you woke him up. What do you have to say, Mr Miles?"

Funny, the one thing I actually _don't_ want is answers. I don't want my theories confirmed. I don't want my dumbass father's crackpot teachings proven right. "Actually, Doc, could you get me a headache pill?"

"Of course Mr Miles, we can't have your brain liquifying because of the reformatting," He gestured to a small bottle of pills that was on a nearby table. I groan, dammit, this means I have to get up! "Now, don't be such a child. You should be grateful, if it wasn't for Ms Stillman there I wouldn't have brought those. She seems to think that the patients' health and comfort is important, but I myself have never cared for such things."

I take my sweet time getting up, my headache notwithstanding, I want to see how far I can stretch this, but it seems they're okay waiting. Loosening up my legs I wonder exactly how long I was out for, or even where I am. I figure that at least I'm important to them in some way, since I'm their prisoner, and they seem happy to indulge me for the time being. I want to see how far that goes.

Forgetting and foregoing water, the pills still work a charm once they're down, and I regain my mind, at least to the state where I wonder how smart taking those pills was anyway. Even though I don't know what I just put in my body, I still smile and look around. The room is pretty utilitarian, mostly grays with a couple of raised sections for hard drives that obviously provide technical support for the machine they put me into, and apparently reformatted my brain at the same time. Shit, they said it _reformatted _my brain. What the _fuck_ did I just land in?

I saw the old man about to open his mouth, when I cut him off, I was already sick of the smug bastard. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." I pause, what the hell do I ask? What the hell am I _supposed_ to ask? "You guys do know that you got it wrong, right? I mean, I'm no Assassin, there are probably heaps of guys out there that would have been easier to find than me. You know, I don't even know what's going on in this war, your side or theirs, so how about we hash this out like civilised people. You know, with less sedatives and creepy machines?"

"Mr Miles, you seem to labor under the delusion that we have made a mistake. There is a reason why we hunted you down for all these years, your skills in hiding are quite impressive." The Bald Bastard pulls out a clipboard, with what looked like a report on it. "Well trained, but your body seems to have wasted away over the years. Perhaps you should have gotten out more Mr Miles, or were you just that anti-social." He flipped the page, "Talented at mixing drinks, passive-aggressive demeanor, and it seems that you see much more than anyone gives you credit for, since there were a couple of close shaves in the beginning, and you've never made the same mistake more than once. You are certainly a tricky man Mr Miles... But, in this case, it is not exactly you we are after, but this part is Ms Stillman's area of expertise.

I roll my eyes. Although the guy had earned points for creepiness, I've been wary of people for far too long for him to be able to psyche me out. The girl, Stillman or whatever, rolled her eyes as well, and she did spare me a glance. She was strange, since she seemed alright just watching the other guy, Warren, rattle on as much as he wanted, despite the fact that it was clear that the machine was hers. Despite that, she seemed nice enough, and pretty enough too, but there was something about her that seemed off. Maybe it was the sympathy in her eyes, because I know for certain that she can't have known me long enough to care that much, and if she knew anything at all, then she would know better than to try that on me. I've grown paranoid enough over the years, and anyone that wants to help, doesn't.

"Sure Warren, let's skip past the part where we introduce ourselves or tell him where he is when he isn't inside the animus." The bald guy shrugs, with a gesture of 'well, get on with it'. "I'm Lucy Stillman, you can call me Lucy, and I'm an employee of Abstergo Industries, you're at one of our facilities. The 'doctor' over there is Warren Vidic, he's in charge of the Animus Project." She gestures to the machine and I finally get my mind to remember the name. She must see the following look on my face when she quickly follows up with "I'm in charge of the Subjects on a day-to-day basis, and I get most of the experience of actually working with the machine. I'm like PR, Warren's the local manager, and you're Subject Seventeen."

Sheesh, that gives me way more than I wanted to know. It's obvious she's either not very good at this, or she's intentionally leaking information, which means she's either an undercover Assassin, or trying to play 'good warden'. I mean, they know I was raised an Assassin, so it's pretty self-explanatory that Abstergo means Templar, at least to me. Also, she said Vidic's the _local_ manager, so even if I do manage to kill him, there isn't a chance of him being the Grand Master, and since he's an asshole he probably won't be missed. And Subject Seventeen. I don't even want to know what happened to the sixteen guys that went before me, I mean, it hardly looks like we're here to make sure that their little machine works properly. They want something from me, from us, and from the looks of what's happened so far, it's going to be painful, and disturbing too.

There's a pause in the conversation, so I look up. Vidic's glaring at the blond, Lucy, probably at the backhanded way she introduced him. Clearing my throat, I break the tension, "Um, unless there's something else vitally important I should know, I'm gonna have to ask for a bed." … "Unless you two want to continue glaring at each other... Or me. Night." Regardless of the fact that it was light outside the windows (and I wouldn't put it past them to have built this place underground with fake 'outsides') I lay back down with the full intention of going to sleep.

Fuck! The machine just zapped me, and that bastard Vidic stepped closer. Lucy had just gone back to her work on the Animus computer, butting out of the conversation again. "Now, now, Mr Miles, I don't believe that we're finished here. That shock you just felt is our way of forcefully withdrawing Subjects from the Animus when they don't want to leave. Grounding them to their body through pain is quick, efficient, and we don't have to worry about the Animus or their minds as we would if we just powered down the machine." Gloating dick, I sit up, again. Damn, my headache's returned with a goddamn vengeance "All in good time, Mr Miles, we do want you to understand what we want from you. The Animus, as its name suggests, allows the user to enter the bodies of ancestors throughout time and view their memories by decoding your DNA, and guiding your 'animus' to those memories. It renders the world of the past, and allows us to gain knowledge and awareness of things lost to history, with no bias other than the limitation of what the ancestor themselves experienced. Your ancestor in the Crusades, an Altair Ibn-La'Ahad, came across something we want to find. The memory of where he encounters it was the place where you found yourself earlier. Now, to bed Mr Miles, Ms Stillman will show you to your room. The Animus first had to reformat you mind for you to take part in the memories. Tomorrow, we will begin. Now, to bed, we have wasted too much time, and your usefulness to us has just begun."

God, my head hurts, and I distantly hear an electric door open. I guess I do need Lucy to help get me there, I can barely stand, I certainly can't walk on my own. Still, the hell? Unlocking DNA? Exploring the memories of this long dead ancestor? What the fuck just happened to my life?


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Read as if Desmond's narrating, that's how this story was written.

Disclaimer: Own Assassin's Creed, I do not

Chapter 2

It's quiet. Or at least, it would be if it weren't for the computer fans and electronic noises that are a constant in the background. You'd think that after nine years hiding out in various places in New York that I'd be used to the sounds of the city, that I wouldn't hear them anymore.

I'm not awake, at least, not entirely. Back at the Farm there was this strict schedule that was kept. It outlined not just the everyday life, but also the shifts in each month, the cycles of the year, the milestones that are invariably kept when the budding Assassins reach a certain age. I was five years old when they taught me how to sleep. To sleep! God, it was as if I had been doing it wrong my entire life. I remember not being able to believe it at the time, God I loved sleeping.

Sleep was my escape, from a life that had been unpleasant for as long as I can remember. You see, no matter how tired and sore I was, I was always able to escape when I closed my eyes. Sometimes, when I got really lucky, I would dream, and would be able to fly away from the place that held me prisoner and dictated my life.

On that day, we were called in to the classroom. There were about eight of us; Assassin women are carefully monitored, as they have the double duty of serving in their respective positions and creating the next generation of Assassins. They became little more than glorified baby factories at times, since they were told to have kids at the same time, so as to provide a better social group for the kids that they didn't know how to raise. Life was sterile, and the Assassins of the 21st century had become a group of people who were trying their best to win an ancient war, but were ruled by their fear. Technology was the enemy, people were the enemy, the radio waves that passed through us on a daily basis were the enemy. Every single thing that we could and couldn't see, was the enemy, and all the modern-day Assassins were terrified. They didn't even understand what victory was anymore.

Right, the kids, sleeping. We were taught not to fall fully asleep, to let ourselves become fully unconscious. We were taught that just because we felt safe in our beds doesn't mean that there are any less threats at night than there are during the day. God, that sucked. What kind of father tells his kid that? Still, after days, months, years of sleeping in that classroom at the end of the day while being lectured on how to sleep properly wore on me. The other kids didn't mind, they thought it was a cool new skill, like being able to free-run across buildings, but I didn't care for it. I never cared for _any_ of that stuff. I didn't want to know how to kill a man using anything I came across. I didn't want to never be able to sleep. I didn't want to always be on my guard, _always_. I didn't want to be an Assassin, but it didn't matter in the end. I was forged _successfully_. I became _good_. And by God I _hated_ it.

I never knew why I was so different. I never knew why all their teachings never worked on me. You see, I never doubted that what they were saying was true. I never doubted that there were Templars that wanted the ideology of the Assassins gone, and all its believers dead, converted or silenced. I just didn't see what any of that had to do with me, why _I_ had to put my life on the line for this. But it didn't matter what I wanted, since my father got what _he_ wanted: a son strong enough to make up for his failure, to one day live up to our heritage and take my 'destined' position as Grand Master where he couldn't.

Heh, as if I'd give that bastard the satisfaction. Thanks for nothing _dad_, go screw with your own life and leave me out of it. *Sigh*, it doesn't matter now, I may be out, but I still can't sleep. It doesn't matter how drunk, or how relaxed, or how well a girl is distracting me, I just can't let go, and actually fall alseep. Now, at night, my _body_ rests and repairs itself, sleeping. My mind, though, is on edge, but disconnected. We learn to disconnect our conscious minds from our bodies, but still pick up what information the senses can transmit in their resting state. We also learned to condition our bodies to be accustomed to walking up in an instant, to reengage at the drop of a hat, and to get moving, with the body running on adrenaline and our mind having never relaxed. That is what it means to be an Assassin.

My body tenses as it hears the beep of the door granting access before opening. As the steps come closer I immediately classify weight and height: Vidic. The Assassins have a paradox of sorts when it comes to their training and the Templars. They maintain that the training techniques of the Assassins are ancient, traditional and _secret_. They also told us that the Modern Templars have infiltrated every level of society, control all technological surveillance, and know literally everything. They can't make up their damn mind, and since the separate cells have to remain in minimal contact for security, there's not really any decisive action being taken as a collective group. No progress is being made, since the Templars have to only win the war, the Assassins have to prove it's worth fighting for.

Vidic's at the foot of the bed, looming ominously over my body, and I don't fancy seeing how far he'll go to wake me up. Why can't he watch me through their cameras like an ordinary ego-maniacal overlord? I make a show of startling awake: "I have to say, that's a little creepy Doc. Do I have to worry for my virtue here, or just what you put in the food?" Smug bastard only smiles.

"Not to worry Mr Miles, I simply wanted to observe you sleeping. The scanners in your room showed some _very_ interesting readings of your brain, different even from the other Assassins we've held here." He hasn't dropped that smile of his, but his eyes sparkle with God-forsaken curiosity. I get the distinct impression that he's looking at me like I'm an interesting lab rat that he wants to dissect since it survived the tests that killed the others. God, I'm paranoid.

Outwardly I snort, "Nice of you to pick up on that doc. Now can I ask that you get out of the room while I get dressed or do I have to put up with you perving on me in person?" He waved a card at a sensor on the wall opposite me, which opened up to reveal a whole wardrobe of the same boring outfit I'd been wearing I woke up in the animus. I shook my head, trying to clear it. I know for a fact that I have hoodies, t-shirts and jeans exactly like these ones at my apartment, but for the life of me I can't remember if I was wearing them when I got 'picked up' from the bar.

Vidic grabbed an outfit hanging on a coat-hanger and threw it at me. "Get up Mr Miles, we have a lot of work to do, and it promises to be very interesting. As for your brain-patterns, we usually monitor Subjects' brains after they have been in the Animus, and mostly they read like the machine is on standby while they're asleep. Not you, though. You exhibit signs of the machine running an active session, albeit without rendering the world. Very interesting Mr Miles, your Animus sessions will be recorded and thoroughly analysed, you have a promising future here." At this point, he turns and walks towards the door. "And for your information, Mr Miles," His gaze becomes predatory, "One such as you has to worry about _everything_ here. The Animus Project is mine, and that makes you mine as well. Be prompt Mr Miles, I'll be waiting."

God he's creepy., but I try not to think about that too much as I get out of bed and look around for some place to wash. After finding a sink in the adjacent bathroom, I splash some water on my face and try to figure out what his game is. He's throwing information around like it's gone out of style, and seems to think he's in complete control of the situation. It's like no matter what I think, I'm not going to be able to be a threat to him and his operation. Smug bastard. After I figure out how to survive today, I'll make sure he learns the price of arrogance, just like I taught my father.

As I pull on the pants left on the bed, I think about why I left. Sure, I wanted out, but the skills they were teaching would be useful in the everyday world, enough that leaving because I didn't like their methods would be really petty. No, it was that deep down, I thought they were wrong in the way they were doing things. The Assassins fight for the freedom of the people, but they have no idea how to get the people to fight for their own sake, so that the Assassins could eventually retire, have _won_ now and forever. I liked their goal, promoting peace through free-will, and educating everyone how the world works so that we could all live in harmony. I left because the way they were fighting was going to last forever, and I didn't want to waste _my_ life being a blade amongst the crowd that no-one will remember, and that nothing that they fought for would last. If I was going to fight, I wanted to win, so when it became clear that the Assassins were never going to win, I decided I wanted out, and, just for the irony, I decided to become one of those civilians they were fighting for, since no-one seems to ask them to do anything for themselves.

Along the way, I talked to people, to find what the Assassins thought was worth fighting for as long as time marched on to save, and I found it in the people. I tried to do favours for people, get enough cred for a place to stay long enough to get a job. I worked hard, until some kind soul showed enough compassion to teach me some useful skills that I could get a job. I looked for and found _good_ people, people who were trying to make the world a better place, a place worth saving.

"Mr Miles, good of you to finally join us." Vidic shocked me out of my thoughts as I realised my body had continued on autopilot while I was thinking. Not good. I had to find a way to build up my situational awareness again.

For effect, though, I just stood there blinking stupidly until Lucy said "Desmond, please get in the Animus, we have a lot of work to do today."

**Please Review**

**A/N: I'm gonna wrap it up there, even though I could continue on easily. Assassin's Creed is a well known franchise, and I'm gonna start slow before building up chapter length. Sorry for the wait, I hope it won't take this long for the next update, but no promises.**

**Until next time, See Ya!**

**Chewy Nemesis**


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